


The Way I See It

by Emriel



Series: Taken [21]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Dark, Drabble, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Voldemort centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 07:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17914634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emriel/pseuds/Emriel
Summary: A prophecy was made, that he would have an equal whose powers he knew not. Voldemort knew he should not have acted rashly, but he was at the height of his power. So he acted preemptively to snip the bud before it could grow thorns and ruin his plans.And yet, he was destroyed by it, by the power of fate. This defeat begets an obsession for revenge and something more....The stories in the Taken series are usually told in Harry Potter's point of view. Here's a drabble that explores how the Dark Lord sees it. As always, read at your own risk.





	The Way I See It

A prophecy was made, that he would have an equal whose powers he knew not. Voldemort knew he should not have acted rashly, but he was at the height of his power. So he acted preemptively to snip the bud before it could grow thorns and ruin his plans.

And yet, he was destroyed by it, by the power of fate.

He survived and held on to life, the many precautions he made for cheating death had in fact worked and it saved him. But it was by no means easy for he spent ten long years of his life as a wraith. He should have been more cautious.

As a wraith, he had plenty of time to think about the baby that cast him out of his body… how the child that was supposedly his equal was his creation.

His doing and his mistake. He needed to rectify it.

He obsessed with thoughts of revenge, thinking once he came back and found a body of his own, he would prove to everyone else that the child was nothing, then he would continue on with his quest to take over magical Britain.

* * *

Harry Potter was weak. The boy had no talent for magic. He was no genius unlike him. The magic that protected him stemmed from the sacrifice of his mother, and perhaps because of this, he was never able to harm the boy.

When the boy was eleven, he offered peace, in exchange for a stone that could bring him back to his former glory. Some part of him never truly wanted an innocent to die for his cause. He recognized the similarities between them and perhaps a small forgotten part of him wanted to give the boy some form of mercy before he killed him.

But the boy thwarted him, holding on to his Gryffindor values... The body he possessed turned to ashes and he raged, on and on of the unfairness of the boy's protection.

Then, during the Triwizard Tournament, a carefully crafted plan landed him the boy. He had him within his grasp, and he watched as terror flitted past those eyes.

He finally had the pleasure of _touching Harry_ and causing him extreme pain while doing so.By using the boy’s blood, he had overcome Lily Potter’s feeble protection. It was bliss to know that he could easily end the boy’s life if he wanted to.

Voldemort wanted to savor the moment, and knowing that it was impossible for the boy to escape, he released him. To his surprise, Harry Potter had another trick up his sleeve for he held a brother wand to his own.

Priori Incantatem.

And his followers all but watched as the boy took the portkey away back to Hogwarts together with the dead body of the spare. It was sad that when the boy declared that he was back, only Dumbledore believed him and the terrified masses all but labeled them insane.

He cursed his followers and took out his anger on them for good reason. He then began searching for a wand, more powerful than his own. His own beloved wand betrayed him. He could not understand why his wand could be a brother to Harry Potter’s.

He began to build his army and retrieve his allies who were wasting away in Azkaban. He called for the wolves, vampires, dark creatures. He amassed his inferi and began deals with dementors. He began the second war.

But it was as if the boy was permanently imbibed with a luck potion, always lucky enough to escape his grasp. He knew that it was not healthy to only think about destroying the boy, so for a time, he let him be.

With his brilliant mind, it was easy to worm his way to the hearts of politicians using many of his followers. The inspid fools, he thought. He still could not believe how Lucius failed him. He punished the man severely for losing him the diary.

It did not take long before he was using brute force. He began systematically taking down those in his way, and it was because the public was still in denial of his existence that it made things very easy.

Just like the first time around, the only ones that ever posed a threat to him was the patch work Order of the Phoenix that Dumbledore led.

With the help of his inner circle, the Death Eaters grew in number. They rallied to his cause. All manner of magical folk, creatures, and wizards were prepared to take over the corrupt ministry, and in its place, form a new government under his dictatorship.

But his thoughts often came back to Harry. He was haunted by the boy’s existence.

He told himself he was not afraid of the child.

But he was madly aware that he posed a threat.

For he was an equal. He could not allow an equal to exist…

But, it was because he was his prophesied equal that an idea formed in his head - that the boy deserved better than a graceless death.

Oh, he had plenty of opportunities to kill Harry.

He could have at any point in time hired mercenaries, used muggle weapons, or sent over assassins. He could have had Lucius Malfoy, member of the board of Hogwarts kill him in broad daylight. He could even ask Snape, the boy’s own professor to poison him and be done with it.

A close friend turned traitor, an animagus who cannot even be detected in Hogwarts can transform just like the blasted rat in his service.

So _many_ ways.

The boy would be dead in a heartbeat.

He could have but he did not.

It was a matter of pride. He could not have _others_ take the glory.

What he wanted was the pleasure of being the one that did the deed… He blamed it on his own tendencies for theatrics. He enjoyed a good show, and it would not be as fulfilling if the boy who lived just suddenly ended up dead.

It was a disservice to both him and his followers. So often that he pondered about what type of death he would grant the boy, one that many would remember.

It was a dream as it was an obsession to think of ways to make the boy suffer. He had long vivid dreams of ruining the boy, to the point where the child was broken and barely there.

Begging. Helpless. A toy. _His_ toy.

He hatched another scheme, to lure the boy into a trap… and Harry fell for it. He succeeded in killing the boy’s godfather, and even found something horrifying in return.

The boy was his horcrux.

When he possessed the boy and he was one with the child, he saw through his eyes, felt his emotions and his fear.

He saw and he felt _it._

And he only had to prod until the boy’s mind fell open, showing him what he needed to know. He glossed through the memories, noting _parseltongue,_ the _echo_ of his thoughts, _Dumbledore’s_ avoidance and his cryptic words of the power that was _shared_ between the two of them.

**The boy was his horcrux.**

The bursts of anger, the visions, the undeniable connection between them… the way he could see into Nagini’s eyes, he could see into Harry Potter’s too.

It was all the proof he needed and the final straw was to cast a spell that would show him whether or not his hunch was correct. And very faintly, he could feel a part of himself, entrenched so deeply in the boy’s psyche, but it was completely unaware… unlike his other soul pieces.

It did not change the fact that Harry as his vessel would remain an anchor to the world should he die.

The knowledge changed everything because he could not harm the container.

But _he_ knew that as long as the body _lived_ , as long as Harry was kept _alive_ , everything else he did to the him would _not_ matter.

An eternity of torture. He imagined hope fading from those very eyes like the dying embers of starlight.

He envisioned it. He planned it and relished the thoughts.

So instead of the glorious death he had planned, he decided to capture the boy then and there and keep him for all eternity.

He was never in any danger of losing the war, not when Harry did not know the sacrifice he must make in order to kill him, his enemy, a brother to his soul.

The boy would not die. For as long as the boy lived, he will live.

But Dumbledore came at last to duel him, and Harry fought the possession. The ministry saw him and the secret was out.

Harry Potter was rescued... taken from him once more...

This time around, Voldemort was patient. He will not believe the prophecy for they are lies. He would not fall for its trap again.

* * *

“Bring him to me. I want him alive,” he said to his followers.

And meanwhile he gathered the pieces of his soul. After having seen the boy’s memories, he was afraid of how much Albus Dumbledore knew. He began to gather them, and found out that the ring and the locket had gone missing.

His rage was felt in all the corners of the Malfoy Manor and he took it out on the fool that dared lose the most precious piece of all, Lucius Malfoy.

It was all the more adamant that he secured the boy. He could not allow pieces of his soul to be stolen from him and if Dumbledore got wind of his plans, then the boy was in danger of being killed. He knew how Albus worked... that man wore a mask that deceptively hid the cold clinical monster who would do everything for the greater good.

To his surprise, it was Draco Malfoy who brought him the boy, all wrapped up like a birthday present.

Harry Potter was still asleep and relatively unaware that he was stolen from the Gryffindor common room by a boy who only wanted to save his own hide and his family.

It was because of Draco that Lucius Malfoy was once again reinstated in his ranks, and Harry Potter was sent to the dungeons to be tortured for days on end.

* * *

Nagini was with him when he was watching the boy scream for help. That was how their victims usually faired. At first, they try their best not to say anything and act all courageous. Harry was the same.

He was a spit fire.

All bark and no bite.

But eventually they start begging like Harry, “Please kill me. Let it end.”

He did not have any intention of killing Harry though. He kept the torture rather mild. It involved nightmares, starvation, sensory deprivation, exposure to dementors, and the general kind of hexes and curses that shouldn’t be enough to kill.

It broke Harry to pieces. Had him screaming until his throat was raw and he couldn’t speak for days. It made the boy weak and unable to fend for himself. Sometimes he’d have difficulty of even dealing with his bodily needs and often just lay there in his own filth and excrement. But when it came to a point that he became unresponsive, they healed him until he could scream again.

Such music to his ears, truly.

Many a time, he’d been tempted to expose the boy to the crueler side of humanity, turning him into a slave, dehumanizing him. There was also prostitution, mind rape, disfigurement, poison, psychologically damaging his psyche, drugging, cannibalism, medical experimentation… the list goes on and on.

He could definitely try them all but when it came down to it, Harry Potter was just a little boy and the only reason why he was torturing him was for entertainment. He was also rather pressed for time, running a country and all.

Harry's suffering brought him happiness. That was all there was to it. It was an easy way to relieve the stress of ruling a country.

After showing the public what became of Harry Potter and killing Dumbledore, no one else bothered to oppose him.

It was easy to focus on the more important parts of his campaign. He tore down the ministry, reorganized the educational system of Hogwarts. He reinstated loyal members of his faction and gave them prominent positions in society.

Because he was merciful, he let the wizards and witches who did not support his rule - die a peaceful death. Those who did not accept these terms were tortured and then publicly executed. Those that remained swore eternal loyalty to him. Children as young as thirteen were marked as Death Eaters.

Once his rule had been stabilized in Britain, he began setting his sights to neighboring countries…

It was between the moments where ruling the country and claiming the next was more important that he began to neglect the boy. He’d be gone for weeks, forget to assign the boy a playmate and it would in turn reduce the boy into a needy little thing.

He’d come into the boy’s prison and Harry would eventually start calling out to him, for help. “Why… why did you leave me again? Where did you go…? I promise… to be good...so don’t leave...”

It turned the boy into a delirious wreck and Voldemort found himself fascinated at how the mind worked, when his own captive was seeking comfort from him of all people.

He supposed the boy hardly saw anyone and at that point, anyone would do. So he raped the child’s mind, trying to understand what was going on with that head of his and became rather fascinated.

The boy was starting to think of him as his only companion… It was not torture that he feared the most. More than anything, it was the nightmares that haunted him and isolation—the fear of being forgotten drove the boy mad.

Wasn't that sweet? But how could he forget his Horcrux? A living breathing one at that, even better than Nagini?

He consulted with Severus and the man told him the boy was probably suffering from a known affliction of the mind where they begin to relate and even have feelings for their captors. Stockholm syndrome. A muggle thing.

It was detrimental to his enjoyment to have the boy go crazy so he sent healers to see what they could do about it.

It only helped a little but when they came back to him with no cure, Voldemort realized how his little hobby turned into an even more elaborate one. Now, not only did Harry have playmates, he also had mind healers!

Voldemort knew he spent his idle time tending to the child, unable to keep his thoughts away. He thought of Harry even when he was in the midst of relishing the blood of his enemies, splattered across his person.

He thought of Harry more than he thought of Nagini.

But who was he to deny himself of pleasure? Even though he knew his obsession was only growing, he tended to it like a man tending a garden of weeds.

“Let it grow.” _Until a time comes to burn it._

He made elaborate plans only to satisfy his craving to see those tears and hear those lovely screams.

The boy tried to kill himself once, but after a rather delightful lesson which involved Harry being forced to kill innocent children, he never really tried again.

Sometimes, when he was bored, he would give the boy hope. They would play a game where Harry had a few minutes to run away in the forest and get to the outskirts of the castle where they kept him to escape.

Harry played this game twice but the boy was smart enough to decline him the third time around.

For the game involved being hunted down with spells and dark creatures. It made the beast in him rather excited at the prospect of hunting down prey. Harry Potter was a little rabbit, scared out of his wits. He would trip at the branches of a thorny forest. His clothes would be singed by a ring of fire.

He'd be trapped by his ghastly beasts, and cower in fear until he could only crawl but find nowhere else to run to. Afraid and he had all right to be.

For during those two games, he let loose his savagery, tearing apart the boy and even taking his virginity and fucking him raw until Harry broke down in his arms in utter despair and-

Cried.

He cried so miserably and looked so helpless, begging for him to stop because he could not live with himself for being so dirty. But he fucked him raw till he bled, until the bark of the tree buried splinters upon the boy’s back, until Harry was filled with his come and it was _bliss_ , utter fucking bliss.

“Master... no more... Please... Please... stop...”

Swallowing his voice until there were only broken moans of pain and what was undeniably _pleasure._

He started using the boy repeatedly, as if by doing so, he could brand the body with his essence just as he had part of himself entwined with the boy’s soul. But fucking his horcrux was for him alone.

.

.

.

The third time he offered to play his favourite game, the boy declined, and so he tortured him until he was sickly and the bones on his feet were broken, together with his wrists, and they had to sew him up from thorny lashes that dug deep into the skin. Harry’s pale skin was shredded into pieces. All this for _saying_ no to playing a game _._

He forced himself on the lovely little thing, who was crying for help, begging for him to stop but no he couldn't.

He would **never** stop.

* * *

Breaking things and people were one of his specialties and for a time, Harry Potter looked quite beautiful to him, broken.

It would have been merciful to just lock him up somewhere safe and forget about him, just like what he did with his other horcruxes but he grew fond of the delicate thing.

He did not know when it began, but eventually he became extremely possessive of Harry. He was this silent and skittish thing. Traumatized from his torture, the boy needed to be cared for. He was crying all the time but was afraid of being alone.

“Master… master don’t leave me… please… please stay...” Harry would cry, and hold out his arms, run to him for comfort.

So _innocent_ he had no idea what to do.

But this was welcome.

Harry was like a drug and he was addicted. He was addicted to the way the boy would spread his legs for him, how obedient he became. How much affection Harry had left to give even after all the horrors he’d been exposed to.

Voldemort felt it then, such horrid happiness. The boy began to trust him, trust his lies that “No… I’m never going to hurt you again if you give yourself to me.”

He turned him into a pet, rewarded good behavior, punished bad behavior. Showed him affection. Showered him with praises. Grew jealous of whoever the boy laid eyes on and many died.

So he hid him, kept him to himself until no one else could ever hurt the boy but him.

He offered the boy bliss. It was easy to make the boy fall for him.

“Give your body to me. Give your soul. Give your mind… Give me everything that you are.”

He was as greedy as the devil. But Harry had little say, like it mattered.

And then.

Consent.

“Master… I love you… I love you so much.”

It was the sweetest victory.

A smile only for him.

Harry Potter was staring back at him with such adoring eyes. Voldemort earned his complete utter trust. The boy belonged to him in _every_  way.

It was enticing, and he cherished it.

If he ever grew tired of it, he can start with a clean slate and enjoy the boy's horror. Make him his a hundred times over.

Such was the boy's fate.

Dumbledore was probably rolling in his grave.


End file.
